


Bleed to Love Him

by twobirdsonesong



Category: CrissColfer - Fandom, Glee RPF
Genre: Complicated Relationships, M/M, Road Trips, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 18:09:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13687035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirdsonesong/pseuds/twobirdsonesong
Summary: Gifted to ticklishblaine for the Crisscolfer Gift Exchange - Valentine's Day editionSome of Chris' favorite moments are riding in a car with a boy.





	Bleed to Love Him

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ticklishblaine (lightsandsparks)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsandsparks/gifts).



******Go Your Own Way**

_If I could_  
_Baby I'd give you my world_  
_Open up_  
_Everything's waiting for you_

 

“Get in loser, we’re going for a drive.”

 

It’s five o’clock in the morning, Chris is in his pajamas, and nothing about Darren sitting his driveway makes sense. Except it does.  Of course it does.

 

“Where are we going?” Chris asks. He’s still in his pajamas, yelling at Darren from the doorway, and choosing to believe that his neighbors are sound asleep and missing all of it.

 

“Does it matter?”

 

Of course it doesn’t.  “Are you in one of your moods?”

 

“I don’t have moods.” Darren might also be in his pajamas, Chris can’t quite tell.  The world is still dark around them.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Cool, so get dressed.”

 

Chris blinks. “No, I mean, okay, you don’t have moods. Not, okay, I’ll go for a drive with you before the crack of dawn.”

 

Darren looks at him like he’s the one in the wrong. Chris is growing accustomed to that look. “So, you’re not coming?”

 

“You haven’t even said where you’re going.”

 

“Nowhere. I just want to go for a drive.” He’s inches from pouting, Chris can tell.

 

Chris folds his arms across his chest.  He wants to go, wants to get in the car with Darren and let him take them somewhere. Anywhere; it doesn’t matter at all.  But he doesn’t want to say yes.  He doesn’t want to always say yes to him, when yes can be so easy when it comes to Darren. And the space between the two tugs in his gut, restless and aching.

  
He sighs, unfolds his arms. “All right. Just, give me a minute to get dressed.”

 

Darren’s smile lights up the night.

  
*******

**Bleed to Love Her**

_Somebody's got to see this through_  
_All the world is laughing at you_  
_Somebody's got to sacrifice_  
_If this whole thing's going to turn out right_

 

Somewhere in Oregon, Chris relaxes. Between the fresh salt air, the verdant trees all around, and the hang of grey in the sky, the knot in his chest loosens. Just a little, just enough.

 

Darren is driving, one hand on the wheel, the other resting easy on his thigh. He’s been talking over the radio for miles, chattering about something Chris has only been half paying attention to.  He hasn’t been ignoring Darren, not exactly; just letting the rhythms of Darren’s speech wash over him. He doesn’t often get to just bask in the moment, any moment.

 

“Are you sleeping over there?”

 

Chris opens his eyes. He hadn’t realized they’d closed. “No.”

 

“I feel like I no longer entertain you. The spark is gone. The magic has died. We’ve become those people.”

 

Chris smiles, stretches his legs as far as they’ll go. He’d taken his shoes off 60 miles ago. “You’ve been talking about music theory since Winchester Bay. You lost me at ‘but the really interesting thing about tonal systems is…’”

 

Darren laughs. “Fine, fine. It really is interesting though.”

 

“I’m sure you think so.”

 

Chris does find it interesting, because Darren does; because passion lifts his voice and brightens his eyes and it makes Chris believe happiness is still possible.

 

“Do you know why I wanted to do this?” Darren asks.

 

“What? The road trip?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Do you want me to guess?” Through the window, Highway 1 continues to unwind in front of them. It feels endless.

 

“I just wanted some time with you. Just us. No one else.”

 

Chris swallows. Darren is staring straight ahead, watching the road. They don’t take time for each other; they don’t have the time to dedicate the way others do. Scraping a short week to drive up the coast had taken planning and careful work and sacrifices. But when Chris thinks about chilly, empty beaches at dawn, and fresh crab from a roadside shack, and Darren asleep next to him in a cheap motel, it’s worth it.  Somehow.

 

Chris reaches over and rests his hand on top of Darren’s. “All right, talk music to me.”

  
*******

**The Chain**

_And if you don't love me now_  
_You will never love me again_  
_I can still hear you saying_  
_You would never break the chain_  


  
The car is quiet. Too close in the distance wildfires burn; the sky turned a hazy orange all week.

 

Behind him, Chris’ house is safe beyond the flames, even if smoke lingers in the air.

 

Darren doesn’t realize he’s started crying until the road blurs in front of him.

 

Eventually, it begins to rain.

  
*******

**Say You Will**

_Something in you put a hold on my heart_  
_It's hard to believe now_  
_Here is a place that will never be dark_

 

“This burger is terrible.” Flecks of food cling to the corners of Darren’s mouth and there’s a smear of ketchup in his beard.

 

Chris pushes his fries around his plate and tries not to stare too obviously. “Then why are you eating it?”

 

“Because I never trust a salad in the desert.  Unnatural.” The next bite he takes is even bigger than the last.  It should be disgusting, the way his cheeks bulge, the sound of his chewing in the half-empty diner. Chris is used to it.

 

“That seems like truly faulty logic.”  Chris’ own lunch is a chicken salad sandwich. It’d seemed safer than the tuna, or egg salad, but he’s not so sure anymore.

 

“Hasn’t let me down yet.”

 

Chris lifts an eyebrow pointedly at the rather sad looking burger in Darren’s hands. “Hasn’t it?”

 

Darren draws back, regards the food, and mournfully puts the remains of it down. “Fair.”

 

The diner is a roadside stop attached to a gas station in the middle of Montana.  A couple truckers sit at the counter, hunched over coffee and sandwiches, staring at their respective plates in comfortable, restful silence. In a creaking booth in the back a couple who must be in theirs 70s flip through maps and guide books. Chris assumes they’re the owners of the expensive, if dusty looking RV parked outside. They seem happy, content.

 

“Think I can hit 100?” Darren asks suddenly. He’s started eating the fries off Chris’ plate, and Chris tugs it closer, out of Darren’s reach.

 

“Miles per hour?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Chris frowns. “You mean like, in your car?”

 

“Yeah. I’ve always wanted to.”

 

“Why?”

 

Darren shrugs and reaches for his half-empty glass of iced tea. It’s left a ring of condensation on the old, scratched table and he wipes at it with his fingers. “Seems like something to do.”

 

Chris flashes through all the things that go wrong. Blowing a tire and careening off the road. Losing control and smashing into something. Getting pulled over and ticketed and it somehow ending up on TMZ.  It feels like one of the times it would be easier to say no to him.

 

Instead of voicing those worries he says, “Well. We’ve got a full tank of gas and the second half of a flat state ahead of us.”

 

Darren looks up. “Yeah?”

 

Chris shrugs and stretches his legs out under the table, resting his feet on the seat between Darren’s knees. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

 

“Okay.”

  
*******

**Sara**

_He was singing_  
_And undoing_  
_And undoing the laces_  
_Undoing the laces_

 

The windows are fogging up and Chris cannot believe he’s here. He cannot believe he’s in the backseat of his car with his shirt rucked up over his belly and Darren’s hand down his pants.  But he is.

 

“There’s a gear shift joke in here somewhere,” Darren pants. His breath is hot, damp against Chris’ neck, and his hand is even hotter.  

 

“Shut up.”

 

He’s too old for this. Too old to be squashed in the backseat of a car. Too old to have pulled over into an empty lookout point because Darren wouldn’t stop massaging his thigh and it was this or crash the goddamn car.

 

Chris strains and sweats and tries to get closer. They don’t have the room for this.  They’re far too smart for this.

 

Suddenly, the car brightens. Approaching headlights cutting through the heavy fog in Chris’ blood. Darren freezes; a bead of sweat travels down the side of his throat. Chris tries to hold his breath, but his heart is beating too hard against his ribs. He’s sure it’s echoing off the roof.

 

The headlights trace an arc across the roof of the car, steady as anything, until they slowly, finally disappear. The overheated car slips back into heavy darkness as the other vehicle rounds the bend and motors on past them, disappearing into the night. The return of silence rings.

 

Darren laughs first and can’t stop, body shaking against Chris’. “Oh fuck. I thought we were about to get busted.”

 

“Jesus Christ.” Chris may never recover from this.

 

“That was like, shit, hearing your parents come up the stairs or something. Fuck.”

 

“I can’t feel my legs.”

 

“That might be because I’m crushing them.” Darren shifts, eases more of his weight off Chris and onto the backseat.

 

“That was stupid,” Chris tells him, and it was.

 

“That was hilarious.”  It kind of was that too, but Chris doesn’t want to admit that.

 

Chris shoves Darren, just because, but Darren grabs his hands and pulls him close again.  


*******

**Dreams**

_Dreams of loneliness,_  
_Like a heartbeat, drives you mad_  
_In the stillness of remembering, what you had,_  
_And what you lost and what you had and what you lost_

 

“You don’t have to do this,” Chris says, staring blankly into his half-packed suitcase.

 

“I want to,” Darren replies. He’s standing somewhere nearby, a steady presence, but not touching.

 

“I can fly. It’ll be faster.” He isn’t sure how many pairs of socks he needs, how many ties.  He has a black suit waiting in his closet, that much he knows. That part is easy.

 

“Between getting to LAX, dealing with security, the inevitable delays, and the terrible in-flight meal options, I bet I can get you home faster.”

 

Chris sighs.  Darren isn’t wrong.  The thought of dealing with an airport right now, with all the people and the smells and the wasted time, makes his stomach turn.

 

“I can come with you,” Darren offers, quietly.

 

Chris’ legs give and he sags down onto the bed, exhausted through and through.  “You know you can’t.”

 

Darren is restless, moving through the bedroom, touching the familiar things. “I want to.”

 

“I know.”

 

“So let me drive you. I’ll get some tunes.  I’ll download some books.” Darren comes over and sits down on the bed, still not touching. But waiting. “It’ll be fine.”

 

It’s not going to be fine, Chris knows, not for a while. But giving over 6 hours to let Darren take control, he might be able to do that.

 

He reaches out and lets Darren take his hand.

 

“It’ll be fine.”

  
*******

**Rhiannon**

_She rings like a bell through the night_  
_And wouldn't you love to love her?_  
_She rules her life like a bird in flight_  
_And who will be her lover?_

 

“Do you even know how to change a spare?”  Chris asks, leaning against the warm body of the car.

 

“Would I be down here on my knees if I didn’t?”

 

Chris presses his lips together and waits.

 

“Shut up,” Darren says. “I can hear your smirk from down here.”

 

They’re somewhere in Nebraska, maybe Iowa, heading for Chicago. It’s hot, the heavy sun beating down from the cloudless, endless sky.  Chris can feel the heat from the pavement through his shoes, radiating from the car through his shirt.

 

“Just call a tow truck,” he says, not for the first time.

 

The car is pulled over on the side of I-80, sitting at a slight tilt from a flat fire.  Darren is on his knees in the dirt, surrounded by tools, and swearing under his breath.

 

“We don’t need a tow truck,” Darren replies, stubborn as always.

 

“It kind of looks like we do.” They’re far enough out it the middle of some version of nowhere that Chris is grateful he even has cell signal. There hasn’t been another car in either direction in 10 minutes.

 

“It’s just a flat. I can fix a flat.”

 

“Have you ever before?”

 

“I’ve helped my dad a couple times.”

 

Chris sighs. He’s met Stubborn Darren before, and knows that they’re going to be here for as long as it takes.

 

He’s never changed a tire before, but he can pull up an instructional video and roll up his metaphorical sleeves.  They do enough in their lives alone; Darren doesn’t have to do this by himself too.

 

Together, they loosen the lug nuts and jack up the car and replace the busted tire with the spare, and get everything back in order quicker than Chris assumed they would.  And with fewer snide comments than expected on top of it.

 

“Lug nuts though,” Darren says. Chris almost misses it, distracted as he is watching the flex in Darren’s hands and wrists as he works the lug wrench.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Nuts,” Darren repeats.  “Lotta nuts, here.  Big, heavy nuts.”

 

Chris shakes his head. “Moron.”  He stands up, and gives Darren his hand to pull him to his feet.

 

There’s dirt on his jeans, a smudge of grease or something else on his forehead, a bit of sweat on his neck.  Chris swallows, heat in his stomach.

 

“What?” Darren asks, throwing the tools back into the duffle bag they came in.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Were you checking me out?” He cocks his hip to the side. “Christopher?”

 

“I don’t need to check you out. I can look whenever I want.”

 

Darren runs his hands down his stomach.  “Is this rugged, dirty, mechanic look doing it for you?”

 

“Get back in the car.”

 

Darren laughs.  “Yes, sir.”

  
*******

**Gypsy**

_And it all comes down to you_  
_Well, you know that it does, well_  
_Lightning strikes maybe once, maybe twice_  
_Oh and it lights up the night_

 

“I made us a playlist.”

 

“Cool,” Chris says, but his stomach grows heavy.  He does not want to be awash in someone else’s words, the words Darren has not found for himself.

 

“Really loving that enthusiasm,” Darren drawls, glancing at him. “Really living for it.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“It’s a good one,” Darren prompts.  “I promise.”

 

“Your last playlist was 10 hours of show tunes.”

 

Darren snorts. “It was not.”

 

“Oh I’m sorry. 8 hours,” Chris amends. He’s not really stretching the truth.

 

“I seem to remember you singing all the way through Wyoming.”

 

“I did not.”

 

“You did. I have the video proof.”

 

Chris grins, rolling his head on the headrest to look at Darren. “Okay.”

 

Darren hands over his phone. His lock screen is generic, but his background isn’t. “It’s in Spotify.”

 

“I know how playlists work.” Chris opens up Spotify, rolling his eyes at Darren’s last played song.

 

“It’s called ‘ _Playlist for Chris_.’”

 

“Clever.”

 

Darren pinches his knee. “Just play it.”

 

Chris hits play and leans back into the seat as the first guitar chords sound through the car.  They have a lot of miles ahead of them, and plenty of music to listen to along the way.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wanted this to be a lot longer, but...life, the universe, everything. I hope it's still okay.


End file.
